


Long Hallways Make Good Neighbors

by magneticdice



Series: Fic!February15 [2]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Challenge - Fic!February, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-02
Updated: 2015-02-02
Packaged: 2018-03-10 05:54:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3279212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magneticdice/pseuds/magneticdice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neighbors AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	Long Hallways Make Good Neighbors

Ian met his new neighbors the day after he moved into his new apartment. The couple down the hall had a cute little baby boy whose name Ian would probably have to hear a few more times to get right. The wife introduced herself as she was taking the baby out for a walk, probably because Ian insisted on helping her carry the baby’s stroller down the two flights of stairs to the ground floor. Her name was Svetlana and she said her husband’s name was Mickey.

Ian didn’t actually see Mickey until a couple of days later. He was heading out for his morning run when he saw the brunet leaving from his apartment. “You must be Mickey,” Ian said to him, taking in his neighbor’s appearance. From what he’d seen of Svetlana, he had expected Mickey to look totally different. More fresh off the boat Russian, perhaps…

The man standing across from him was clearly a native South Sider. Ian could tell from his walk and his demeanor. He was about average height (which Ian considered to be pretty short) and had pale skin with dark, black hair gelled back almost identically to his own. They guy eyed him suspiciously so Ian explained that he was his new neighbor and had just moved in down the hall, but Mickey didn't seem too impressed.

“Whatever, man. I gotta get to work,” Mickey said, brushing past Ian and abruptly ending their already-short introduction. Ian thought it was a shame; the guy was actually quite nice to look at, even if he _was_ taken.

\---

“My husband... he not always like that,” Svetlana said, taking a sip from the mug of coffee Ian had made for her. She had stopped by to ask for a cup of sugar (seriously) and Ian had invited her in. They were sitting at his kitchen table, Svetlana with the baby on her lap, telling him all the scoop on the other tenants in their apartment building. “Problems at work,” she said in explanation. “He is stressed.”

“It's not a big deal,” Ian told her with a shrug.

She took another sip of her drink. “Family upstairs, they take whole floor. They have five little brats. Grandmother watches them and lets them destroy house all day long. Always running around, playing with balls, waking up my baby.” She bounced her son affectionately and the little guy giggled.

“Chans downstairs, they nice. But whole floor always smell like restaurant,” she said, shaking her head. “And man on first floor can get you whatever drug you need,” she continued, “for good price.”

“Good to know,” Ian said with a laugh, swallowing down what was left of his coffee.

\---

Ian must have really caught Mickey on a bad day, because he wasn’t a douche the next time around.

“Svetlana said you work at the gym,” Mickey said, catching Ian off guard after a run.

The redhead wiped his brow with the sleeve of his T-shirt. “Oh, yeah. I’m a trainer over at the Fitness Formula Club in Boystown,” he told him. “Why? You thinking of joining?”

“Boystown, huh?” Mickey laughed softly to himself. “Nah, I ain’t got time for that,” he told Ian with a little shake of his head.

There was a momentary pause in their conversation and Mickey bit his lip, as if he was hesitating about asking his next question. It was fucking _sexy_ the way teeth left little white lines on his red lip and Ian forced himself to tear his eyes away and not stare too long at the brunet’s mouth, however appealing it was.

“Is that what all the running’s for?” Mickey finally asked him.

Ian nodded. “Yup. Easier to do my cardio on my own time,” he explained. “And it’s definitely more entertaining to run around the neighborhood than on a machine. Something new to see every day,” he added.

\---

Their morning exchanges were pretty decent after that. Mickey left for work around the same time that Ian got back from his run, and didn’t seem to care that Ian was a sweaty, stinky mess.

They soon discovered that they were from the same neighborhood, having grown up only a few blocks away from each other. It was amazing that they had never met as kids; although, from the impression Ian got, Mickey hadn’t spent much time actually going to school.

Ian learned that Mickey’s mood and attitude were completely unrelated. He was always a racist asshole, especially in his interactions with the other families in the building, but that didn’t mean he was angry. It was just his normal personality setting, and Ian found it hilarious. In fact, in a lot of ways, it reminded him of home.

All of the intel Svetlana had given Ian about the other tenants turned out to be true. He always got a craving for Chinese food whenever he walked past the second floor, and the family upstairs was so out of control that sometimes Ian thought they were raising a fucking soccer team. The thing that surprised him was that he never had a problem with the Milkoviches’ baby. He knew the little guy was colicky at nights from what Svetlana told him, but never heard the crying.

“Long hallways make good neighbors,” Mickey said by way of explanation when Ian mentioned it to him, and he couldn’t really argue with that.

\---

“I’ll walk you out,” Ian offered, pulling on a pair of boxers.

“Thanks,” the tall blond said, buttoning the last stretch of his shirt. He’d taken an introductory session with Ian the day before and had been very insistent on having a “private, one-on-one class” with the redhead. Ian hadn’t really seen any reason to say no, especially when the guy had programmed his freaking number onto Ian’s cell.

Ian looked at his phone now and saw that he wasn’t running that late yet. He’d have to skip his morning run, but he grinned with the realization that he’d done enough cardio already...

He walked the blond ‒ Joel? Joey? Something with a J, anyway ‒ to the door. “Gimme a call if you wanna do this again. You have my number,” the guy told him casually before leaving.

“Bye,” Ian said with a smile. It had been a good morning, and he felt nice and sated.

“That your boyfriend?” he heard Mickey said from down the hall once the blond had gone down the stairs. Ian looked up, startled. He hadn’t even noticed his neighbor standing there.

“Or maybe your girlfriend?” Mickey asked with a sneer.

Ian pushed down the anger that quickly welled up inside him. “Nah, just the guy I’ve been fucking,” he said casually, flashing Mickey an exaggerated grin.

It had never occurred to him that his neighbor would be so homophobic, especially in this day and age; but then again, he should have known better than to assume that anyone in this neighborhood would be open-minded and accepting of him.

Ian watched as Mickey scowled and went back into his apartment, then followed suit.

\---

After that exchange, Ian made it a point to make Mickey as uncomfortable as possible. He took every opportunity to fuck with the straight fag-hater by never hiding who he was and being extra nice to him, and got a kick out of Mickey’s reactions.

From walking through the hallway practically naked when picking up his mail to complimenting Mickey on how great his arms looked in that particular tank-top, Ian didn’t pass up a single opportunity to flirt with the older man.

Ian and Svetlana got along well and ‒ unlike her husband ‒ she seemed to have no problem with him liking cock, so Ian would go over to the Milkoviches’ apartment to borrow stupid shit like eggs and milk that he didn’t really need when he was _sure_ everyone was home. He would deliberately tell her all about his latest hook-ups when Mickey was within earshot. It was a fun game.

\---

Wednesdays were Ian’s day off. He usually spent them sleeping in and catching up on all the shows his DRV recorded during the week. He decided to go out and get himself a bagel for lunch from the corner store down the block, but as he opened the door to leave, saw Svetlana kissing a stranger goodbye. The man looked old ‒ probably in his sixties or so ‒ and wasn’t much to look at. Despite his new annoyance with Mickey, he suddenly felt really bad for the guy. No one deserved to be cheated on…

…but then again, was it really his place to get involved? Svetlana had been nothing but nice to him since he’d moved in. Maybe it was a one-time thing?

He waited until the coast was clear before walking out, and spent the whole day worrying about what he would do, Mickey’s words of long hallways making good neighbors on loop in his head.  He finally came to the conclusion that it was none of his business who his neighbors decided to fuck, just like it was none of Mickey’s business that Ian happened to fuck guys instead of girls.

\---

Week after week, Ian saw different men leaving the apartment down the hall whenever Mickey wasn’t home. It became harder for him to keep the information to himself. He considered confronting Svetlana, then thought better of it.

The decision became an easy one to make when he bumped into Mickey taking the baby out one weekend. He didn’t usually see father and son spending time together.

“Apparently the kid needs sunlight,” Mickey explained, noting Ian’s surprised expression. “Like he’s a fucking plant or something,” Mickey muttered, shaking his head.

Ian wordlessly grabbed the other end of the stroller and helped Mickey carry the bulky, secondhand thing down the stairs.

“You going to the park?” Ian wondered. Mickey nodded.

“Want some company?” he offered. He didn’t think Mickey would accept but he had nothing else to do and figured it couldn’t hurt.

The brunet shrugged, then sighed out a “whatever,” so Ian tagged along.

“So how come you’re the one taking the baby out?” Ian wondered after they’d walked a couple of blocks.

“Wife wants some alone time in the house,” he replied. “Didn’t really have an excuse to not do it.”

Ian swallowed. Mickey had no clue what she was probably using that “alone time” for, and his guilt at keeping his knowledge of her infidelity weighed even heavier on him.

They got to the park and sat down on a bench alongside the path. It was a very pleasant day, and Yevgeny seemed to enjoy being out and about. Ian watched as the baby happily chewed on his bare foot.

Mickey took out his cigarettes and offered one to Ian, who gladly accepted it. Stress was _not_ his friend at the moment.

“I have to tell you something,” Ian told Mickey a few minutes later. The brunet raised an eyebrow at him so Ian continued. “I’ve seen different guys leaving your apartment when you’re not there, and I’m pretty sure Svetlana’s sleeping with them.” He looked up apprehensively to see Mickey’s reaction, but to his utter surprise, Mickey _laughed_.

“Did you hear what I said?” Ian asked him, confused.

Mickey rubbed at his bottom lip with the back of his thumb and nodded. “She’s a whore,” he said, huffing out another laugh. Ian fought to not let his jaw hang open at how _well_ Mickey was taking the news.

“Oh, that reminds me,” Mickey said. “The landlord throws this stupid Fourth of July barbecue every year and Svetlana wanted me to tell you that you’re on beer duty.” And just like that, the news of his wife’s infidelity was forgotten.

\---

The BBQ rolled around, and it was actually not as bad as Ian had expected it to be. He introduced himself to all the different tenants and was glad he could finally put faces to the monsters who kept him up at nights with their incessant running on the fourth floor.

Ian learned that Mr. Chan actually owned a Chinese restaurant, and did a lot of his prep-work at home with his family, which explained the overwhelming albeit delicious smells. Across from the Chans lived an elderly lady who owned six cats, and Ian found out from the landlord that the only reason he okayed it was because the smell of the food cancelled out the smell of her cats’ litter boxes.

Ian happily ate all the different food the other families contributed while drinking plenty of his own alcoholic contribution. It was shaping up to be a very good barbecue indeed.

Although he swore he wasn’t staring, he couldn’t help but notice that Mickey spent a lot of time talking to the tenant on the first floor who Svetlana had basically described as a drug dealer. Once it was dark outside and everyone was preoccupied with watching the kids across the street light some fireworks, Ian spotted Mickey sneaking away and going back into the building. Curiosity got the better of him so he grabbed two bottles of beer and quietly followed.

Mickey passed the third floor and kept climbing the stairs, going all the way up to the roof. He ignored the alarm warning posted on the door (no alarm sounded) and went outside. There were two plastic lawn chairs set up on the roof, facing the Chicago skyline in the distance. Mickey sat in one of them, then turned back towards the door. “There a reason you’re following me, Gallagher?” he demanded.

Ian could tell there wasn’t any real malice in his voice, so he wordlessly fell into the other chair. “Trade you a beer for some of whatever you got off of 1A?”

“Thought the beer was for everyone in the building,” he said with a snigger, reaching out and grabbing one of the bottles out of Ian’s grip. Ian pouted and Mickey chuckled. “How much have you already had to drink?” he asked, eyeing the redhead.

Ian had to think about his answer. “Enough…” he said eventually, having lost count. He giggled, causing Mickey to also laugh.

“Alright, gimme that bottle and I’ll share,” he said, pulling a joint out of his pocket.

“No way,” Ian said, instinctively moving the beer away from Mickey. He already had one of the bottles in his possession, after all. “You’re completely forgetting the fact that _I_ paid for those cases!”

“Whatever,” Mickey breathed, taking the first hit from the spliff. When he was done, he leaned forward and passed it to Ian.

Ian hadn’t smoked in a while ‒ not since Lip had visited Chicago the previous Christmas ‒ and was embarrassed with himself for coughing so much as he exhaled; but in his defense, it was _really_ strong weed.

“Damn,” he said, passing the joint back to Mickey.

“I know. Darren has the best shit,” Mickey said, bringing it back to his lips. Ian watched, entranced, as the brunet’s cheeks hollowed out when he inhaled, the lights from the fireworks below illuminating his pale skin. Mickey looked _beautiful_.

Ian could already feel the weed taking effect. He felt a numbness wash over him, and felt his body relax. He felt so comfortable hanging out with Mickey, but that wasn’t just his high talking.  Over the last couple of months, despite his constant teasing, they had settled into an acceptable friendship.

He held out an eager hand and Mickey passed the joint back to him. He took another hit and held it in as long as possible before letting it out, showing Mickey how his brother had taught him to make smoke circles back in the day.

“Show off,” the brunet muttered, making Ian laugh and ruin the last few circles. He moved to give it back to Mickey, but accidentally knocked over the beer that Mickey had resting on the arm of the chair.

“Shit,” Ian hissed.

“Fuck,” Mickey said, jumping out of his seat. He batted away at the liquid in an attempt to get it off before it had a chance to soak into his jeans. Without thinking, Ian took off his hoodie and knelt down in front of the older man, using it to wipe at Mickey’s crotch.

What he didn’t expect to feel was a boner behind Mickey’s jeans. Ian froze.

Neither man moved for what seemed like an eternity, but eventually Ian awkwardly stood up and muttered, “sorry…”

Mickey took a step back and stared at Ian with his bloodshot eyes that undoubtedly mirrored Ian’s own, a deep frown on his face. “I’m gonna go,” he said, not bothering to wait for an answer from the redhead.

Ian suddenly felt very empty.

\---

That night, he lay in bed while he came down from his high, and all of his thoughts were centered on Mickey. He realized that the emptiness he’d been feeling since their encounter on the roof just hours before was, in fact, disappointment. But that was ridiculous. What did he have to be disappointed about? That Mickey hadn’t been down to fuck?

Ian closed his eyes and sighed. He tried to think back to when things had changed between him and his neighbor. When had the teasing become actual flirting on his part? When had he started really _liking_ Mickey?

A knock on the door tore him away from his internal detective work, leaving the mystery of when he had developed his crush on Mickey unsolved. He lazily got up and went to open the door. Mickey stood on the other side, looking distraught.

“I’m sorry about before,” Ian started before his neighbor had a chance to explain what he was doing there. “It won’t happen again,” he promised, simultaneously promising himself to cut it out with the flirting.

Mickey chewed on his lip and closed his eyes for a beat. Then, without warning, he pushed Ian into his apartment and closed the door behind them.

“I said I was sorry,” Ian breathed, beginning to panic. He was not expecting Mickey to get so aggressive; he didn’t think his neighbor’s homophobia would actually lead to violence. Mickey pushed him against the wall and held his head pressed back against it with both hands.

Ian squeezed his eyes shut and braced himself for the pain that would surely follow. It came in the form of Mickey’s warm lips smashing against his own. Ian opened his eyes in shock just as Mickey pulled back.

“What…” he gasped, “was that?”

Instead of giving him an answer, Mickey kissed him again, deeper this time, leaving Ian even more out of breath than the first one had.

“I don’t understand…” Ian began. “What about Svetlana?”

Mickey’s brow furrowed together. “What about her?”

“She’s your wife, Ian said.

Mickey shook his head. “She’s a whore.”

“But she’s still your wife…” Ian insisted

Mickey laughed then, no doubt seeing the confusion on Ian’s face. “No she isn’t. I mean, she _is_ on paper, but not really. She’s an _actual_ whore,” he explained, and it suddenly made sense to Ian why Mickey hadn’t been more upset when they’d spoken about it in the park.

Well, almost all of it made sense. Mickey leaned in for another kiss but Ian turned his face to the side. “But… I don’t get it. Why did you always look so uncomfortable around me? I thought you were homophobic…”

Mickey huffed out another laugh. “Are you fucking serious?” he asked. “What do you expect me to do when my hot-ass neighbor comes home drenched in sweat every morning, shirt sticking to his abs? Or when he touches my arms and tells me I look good in my shirt? Or, better yet, when he talks about fucking random guys with my wife, while I’m in the same fucking room?”

Ian couldn’t string together a coherent reply. He’d never taken Mickey’s reactions to be anything but disgust.

“Now, you wanna chit-chat some more, or you wanna get on me?” Mickey wondered, raising his eyebrows expectantly, and getting an answering grin from Ian.


End file.
